Blood Murder
by 101weirdways
Summary: A new mystery to uncover and a new villain to uncover... join Sherlock Holmes and John Watson on another crime scene...Sherlock will be happy, the murders just keep coming...
1. Chapter 1

**Despite the fact i rarely finish fanfics... im starting a new one on Sherlock!**

 **Recently got addicted to the amazing Show and now i can't get enough! didn't really want to rewrite a scene or do an alternative ending because it was too good to spoil so i wrote this instead.**

 **Enjoy an let Cumberbatch rule the world!**

 **blood murderer**

 **Chapter l**

"Bored!"

"sorry?" John said in reply to his friends cry.

"Bored! I'm bored john. I need something new." Sherlock shouted, almost spilling the tea he was holding in a dainty cup and saucer.

"You mean a case?" john replied, calmly sipping his own tea while reading the daily paper in his armchair. Sherlock sprung up from his own chair, cup still in hand, and paced in front of the fireplace, muttering to himself.

"A case, a case, a case…"

John sighed at Sherlock and turned the page of his newspaper. The week that had just past had been an incredibly dull time on the crime front in London, but Sherlock was having none of that. Through video chat, the pair had solved a mind boggling murder in Australia and theft of a diamond necklace in Brazil. Not to mention the strange case of sixteen poisoned monkeys in a French zoo. However, all had been concluded and filed along with the rest and the world's only consulting detective was back to pacing and drinking mrs Hudson's excellent tea, resisting a cigarette.

"Though I mustn't complain," John sighed again, folding the paper neatly in two, "It's a personal best after all."

Sherlock turned round."Personal best?"

"Well," John said, turning his wrist to look at his watch, "It's been a whole three hours since the poisoned…"

"Tranquilised," Sherlock interrupted, " the monkey's were simply tranquilised and unconscious ,I'm surprised they didn't notice the feet."

"Ok then, it's been three hours since the tranquilised monkey's and you haven't broken anything"

"Oh!" Sherlock cried, checking his own watch " you count?"

"Well I can get bored too" John said, rising from his chair and taking his empty cup into the kitchen ,which was currently occupied by a particularly gruesome looking experiment, and placed it into the sink. As he did so, he gagged at what was lying there.

"Why the hell is there a dead frog in our sink!" he shouted, closing his eyes and turning away.

"There isn't." replied Sherlock, not really paying attention and still pacing the living just stared at his insane flat mate. He thought he'd seen it all from Sherlock Holmes, but sometimes he did some questionable things that.

"So what is…" John started, attempting to look back at the rotting, brown animal, but stopping after feeling the vomit building up in his throat.

"A toad." he explained, simutaneous with John's fed up sighs.

"Of course, you idiot." He cursed under his breath and he slammed the cup and saucer on the strangly tinged green worktop. Sometimes, he wondered how he tolerated this madman and pondered over the fact if he was becoming one as well.

Sherlock was still vigorously striding up and down the room, so John took care in seating himself back down with the fear that his friend might suddenly explode with impatience.

"Want to watch some TV?" John asked. He knew it was a poor attempt to calm Sherlock down as he always shouted at the people on the screen. He didn't answer, but didn't sit down in his chair either. He was still rapidly gulping at his cup of tea, though John thought the cup must be empty by now.

John rose the newspaper to cover his face and once again, the two were quiet. They could hear Mrs Hudson pottering around downstairs and the odd taxi whirring past. The soft, industrial sounds of London was their backing track most of the time, but now, on a Sunday morning, there were only a few cars in the city symphony.

"Theft of a painting in a gallery?" read John from the paper, trying to grab Sherlock's interest with something.

"Boring." replied Sherlock blankly.

"Missing woman in Greenwich?" tried John again.

"She's an adulterer who ran away from her actual husband."

"Oh."

How did he do it?

Suddenly, Mrs Hudson burst through the door with the vaccum cleaner and there was a smash on the back wall. John jolted his head round to see what had happened and saw the cup and saucer lying on the floor in twelve broken pieces.

"Sherlock!" complained Mrs Hudson and plodded into the kitchen.

"Three hours and twenty three minutes." remarked John heavily.

"Oh yes," said Sherlock as if he had just noticed he had sent the china he was holding a few seconds ago ,flying across the room,"sorry about that!"

"Really Sherlock, you never learn!" sighed Mrs Hudson, plugging the vaccum into the mains in the kitchen. "that's the third cup this week!"

"Oh Mrs Hudson!" started John, remembering his little animal encounter earlier. Unfortunately, she was one step ahead ahead of him.

A piercing scream arose from the other room and Sherlock looked up. He strode to towards Mrs Hudson and for one unreal moment, John thought he was going to help her. Alas, he stopped outside the kitchen and swung the doors tightly shut, blocking off the woman's ghastly scream with a bang. He turned round with his back to the door and took a deep breath.

"I need a case!" He shouted over the prolonged scream from behind him.

"wha..why..who?" Mrs Hudson quivered, shakily walking through the other door back into the living room. Sherlock was busily prancing round the room, throwing around bits of paper and chucking heavy hardbacks over his shoulder. She let out a slow whine and quickly rushed back down the stairs.

"Come on Sherlock," calmed John "you can't expect a new mystery to fly through the window."

"argh!" he moaned and without warning lost all strength and flopped on the floor. At that exact moment, there was a sharp smash and a picture frame fell off the wall. Now this was cause for Sherlock to look up.

There was something stuck in the glass frame of the picture, blue and golden. Sherlock scrambled up for a closer look. He pulled out the object and inspected it closely.

"What is that!" exclaimed John, amazed that a case really did fly through the window. He got up out of his chair and left his paper on the seat, though he didn't walk over to the now occupied detective.

What Sherlock was holding was long and thin, with a single blue feather attached to the end. the body was a shiny golden metal and a spike was pushing out of the front end of it where it had smashed the glass of the frame.

"A dart?" Sherlock mumbled, slightly confused by its random entrance. "A dart." he said, louder this time so John could hear.

Sherlock stood up with the golden dart still in his hands and strode over to his messy desk. He carefully placed the dart down on the tea-stained surface where John had a chance to examine it himself. Sherlock glided over to the window to look at where his strange new case had made its unexpected entrance. Slowly, he circled the neat break in the glass with his finger and hummed quietly.

"Interesting." He remarked and reached out for his coat "come on John, we're going out."

 **Whooooo!**

 **next chapter will be out right after this so the suspense isnt enough to kill me by!**

 **see you soon Xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Out fast as i said! i can keep a promise!**

 **Enjoy and please review...**

 **Chapter ll**

The two rushed down the stairs with their coats on, passing Mrs Hudson, who was still slightly pale, on their way.

"Found a case boys?" she asked, but before they could answer she added, "that'll keep you out of trouble for a few hours, stop you putting monsters in my sink!" and she turned back into her room.

"Oh dear." said John. He knew it would soon blow over, but when mrs Hudson was angry, it was usually a sign that he wasn't the only one at the brink of giving up on tolerating Sherlocks insanity.

"Don't you worry Hudders, it'll all be fine. Fantastic!" Sherlock called, though his land ladies door was shut fast. He strode down the hallway closely followed by his assistant and burst out of 221b baker street with a wide grin on his face.

Automatically, John raised his hand up to raise attention to a taxi, but Sherlock walked straight past him and proceeded to cross the road.

Confused, John followed him over, waving away the cab that had pulled over for him. He had his window open and John could see him shaking his head inside, clearly a bit annoyed with him.

"Sherlock, aren't we going to the police?" John asked, slightly out of breath from rushing around suddenly after relaxing inside. Sherlock was staring up at the buildings opposite their own flat, and he was measuring something with his arms outstretched. He was clearly not listening to John as he was muttering something not quite audible to himself and scaling the walls rapidly with his eyes.

"Sherlock?" John tried again.

"Police, we don't need the police!" He announced "Do you remember, was it in line?"

"what?" John asked ,confused at what his friend was trying to ask.

"The two holes? The one in the window and the one in the picture frame, were they in line with each other, it's very important?""Erm, no, i don't think so." answered John, feeling slightly under pressure and vacant to the relevance of the question.

"Oh for Lords sake!" huffed Sherlock "you need to be positive!"

"Well why don't you go and check? The house is just there!" John asked.

"You go. Do you have a gun?" Sherlock said.

"A gun!" cried John.

"Don't worry mine's here somewhere, now go!" he ordered.

Shaking his head at the detective, John bounded across the road and into the building again. He entered the living room, carpeted in random bits of paper from Sherlock's earlier rage, and advanced towards the window where the hole from the dart cut through the glass. It was at around shoulder height for John and he glanced around to look at where the picture frame used to be, before it fell off its peg when the dart hit it earlier.

He was about to open the window to shout the affirmed answer to Sherlock, he looked out to see him pointing a gun up at the window!

"Duck!" He warned, shouting up at John from the other side of the street and John dropped down suddenly. What was Sherlock doing!

There was a loud bang and another smashing sound as the bullet shot through the window and hit the wall like the dart had done, except this time, the damage was about a metre and a half closer to the ceiling.

Boiling with confused anger, John scrambled up from the floor, where he'd ducked to avoid the guns target, and swung the window open. He stuck his head out and glared down at Sherlock.

"What!" He screamed at him. "Sherlock!"

The crazy detective looked up at John, confused to the cause his anger. He was still pointing the gun at the window and it made John nervous.

"Point that thing away from me!" He shouted "what the hell are you doing!"

"I'm investigating, obviously. We have a case, we need to investigate!" Sherlock replied inoccently. "Duck!"

Only closely avoiding this second bullet, John pressed his face aginst the floor and listened to the bang and then the smash of the glass.

"Sherlock!" He shouted and scrambled up to the window again. His friend had finally stopped pointing the gun at him, but was now nowhere to be seen.

John leant out of the window and peered up and down the small street, trying to find Sherlock. There was little traffic and the sun was just peeping round the clouds in the dark sky.

Although he knew there wasn't anywhere really to hide on the short, straight road, John checked several times up and down, searching for the missing Sherlock.

Suddenly, he heard a shrill scream from outside and through the window directly opposite and a familiar face emerged from behind the glass.

"Sherlock?" John shouted across, staring at the figure.

Sherlock was mouthing something, but John couldn't work out what he was trying to say.

"What?" He said, confused.

He kept on mouthing the word and John was starting to pick it up.

"D..Du.." He tried.

From across the street, Sherlock lifted the window, revealing a pale white woman in a night dress standing behind him, and lifted the gun again.

"Duck!" He boomed and there was another bang.

"Sherlock stop it! It's not in line, window hole is…"

Bang!

"Higher!" John announced, attempting to make Sherlock stop destroying their flat.

"Marvellous!" Sherlock cried and disappeared from the window leaving the pale woman standing there, completely shocked.

 **There you go!**

 **bit shorter but out there. will be a little longer until i release the next one but please stick with me for two weeks at least... if nothing after then i've probably given up.**

 **HOPEFULLY see you soon.. bai!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Bit short i know but i haven't uploaded in a while so something to carry on the story while we're waiting for season 4 (:**

 **Please review and share round, would love more readers XX enjoy**

 **Chapter lll**

"well that was pointless." complained John, who was back sitting in his chair in the flat while Sherlock examined the shot marks on the wall where the dart had hit.

"Higher…" He muttered, his extraordinary brain whirring, stroking the broken wallpaper with his finger.

"So it's higher, what does that prove?" asked John, a little angry at the state of the window and wall thanks to Sherlock.

"Everything John...Everything!" He replied "Don't you understand?"

There was a short silence as Sherlock waited for his little friend to catch up. John just stared back, waiting for an answer.

Sherlock sighed heavily, also fed up. "We know where it's from. Not the street, nor the second floor…"

"So…" Said John, a little slower than usual.

"Third floor John!" Shouted Sherlock, gliding over to the desk, sweeping up the the dart in his hand and holding it up to the...draughty window.

"what about the roof?" asked John "that's a possibility."

"No not the roof… there's a rim on the top of this window, try to shoot something from higher than the third floor, it'll get caught on that. you're a bit slow this morning, are you feeling ok?"

"Shut up!" John complained, taking this as an insult.

"hmm" said Sherlock, twisting the dart round his fingers.

"Why are we so up on this?" wondered John, apparently out loud "I mean, its a dart that sailed through our window. how's that dangerous?"

As if on cue, a small red cylinder slid out of the dart Sherlock was examining and dropped on the scarlet carpet with a light thud.

"Interesting…" Sherlock muttered as he bent down to pick up the object that had been concealed by the apparently hollow body of the dart. The see through cylinder had a tiny cap at one end and Sherlock undid it with the tip of his nail, letting the red liquid spill on his fingers, although there was a tiny two drops inside.

"what's that?" enquired John, looking up when he saw his friend dealing with progress.

"blood?" said Sherlock.

"Blood?" replied John, shocked.

"yes that's what I said."

"I know, but why would there be blood in a dart." Asked John.

"Why indeed." Replied Sherlock.

After inspecting it fully, Sherlock smacked it down of the desk. He expected to hear the nail biting sound of glass crunching beneath his sweaty hand, but instead, there was only a tinkle where it hit the surface loose to his grip. non-shatter! And not like the rulers that suggest they're shatter-proof and you end up breaking them two days later. This was tough glass and yet it contained something so ordinarily common. The drops of blood inside must be important, John had deduced that far and Sherlock was buzzing with absurd questions that had yet to shoot

Johns mind.

"We need to find out whos blood this is." Murmured Sherlock and he pulled the miniscule cap over the cylinder. He then slid it back into the hollow body of the dart for safe keeping and proceeded to push it into the inside pocket of his signature jacket.

"Oh, we're going out again?" said john, tiredly, lifting himself off the armchair with a groan.

"Yes of course, why are you so tired?" asked Sherlock.

"Um…" Said john rolling his neck around his head, "I couldn't sleep again."

"Oh…" remarked Sherlock blankly, looking John up and down protectively before turning round to grab his coat from the back of their door. "well wake up then…"

"Alright I'm coming!" called john to Sherlock who was darting down the stairs enthusiastically, his heavy feet thundering on the wood.

 **There you have it. I will try to do more writing but i dont have much spare time in the next few weeks.**

 **Thanks for reading and check out my other stories.**

 **See you later Xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**OMG i have not been on here for AGES. Be warned i am writing this at 00:30 so it may not make much sense but i wanted to upload again :) Enjoy and check out my other stuff :D**

Sherlock and John swung out of the taxi and into the hospital, Sherlock fiddling with the dart between his long fingers. They were on a mission to find Molly Hooper and crack the case of the bloody dart and nothing got in their way as they strode down the corridors to find the correct lab where she was sure to be working.

"Any theories so far?" John asked his friend as they burst through countless doors, their shoes making a tap that echoed around the walls of the hospital.

"Hmm" Sherlock replied, with a clearly baffled expression. He clearly did not want to admit that this case was confusing even to him.

John nodded, understanding Sherlock perfectly even if it was not the impression sherlock was intending to give off. He was used to the way things worked with the consulting detective now and, although others at the police department couldnt begin to understand, John was generally fine with his concept even if it did get on his nerves more often than it should.

Bursting through the final set of double doors and into the familiar lab, Sherlock advanced towards his beloved microscope and proceeded to take apart the dart which he'd looked after on the way over. Molly was in the next room and spied them through the glass. Hastily, she dropped the bloody looking object she was holding into a tray and made her way to the door connecting the two labs.

By the time she had come in, sherlock has already spread the blood across two microscope disks, leave spare in the dart just in case something bad happened, which was unfortunately all too common for the pair.

"Check this blood for chemical infection or any type of disease, results must come to me immediately." He ordered without so much as a hello to his trusted lab assistant. John, feeling responsible for sherlocks impolite behaviour and gave Molly an awkward smile as she took hold of the disk Sherlock was holding out, his eyes glued to the scientific equipment.

"A new case?" Molly said meekly, turning the disk in the light.

A moment of silenced past as Sherlock turned knobs and wrote equations down on a sheet of paper. Eventually John nodded, telling Molly about how the dart had come through the window and that they thought there was a case in it worth an investigation. Molly nodded understandably and after another awkward smile, walked stiffly back through the door she had come in through.

John sighed at Sherlock, who paid no attention, still scribbling on the paper.

"You couldn't be a bit kinder?" John suggested .He had been thinking about how sherlock barely talked to Molly outside of Imperative and even then you wouldn't exactly call it an in depth conversation.

In true Sherlock fashion, the detective acted as if no one had said a word and rose from his work sweeping up the scruffy paper from the desk. John just sighed and got ready to go out again, turning for the door.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock said quietly, with his back turned to John while he fiddled with another machine. Then he just turned and swooped out of the door with his coat and scarf. John stared at the door in silence as it slowly came to a close before he followed sherlock to where ever he'd decided to take off to this time.

Sherlock was a confusing person to understand, but it didn't take an expert to work out that the case of the bloody dart had baffled him to the point where not one deduction had come to mind. This would be a hard case to solve, but as john chased Sherlock he was sure that together they could manage it.

 **There we go :) im a little (lot) out of practise with fan fic rn, but i felt in the mood so why not.**

 **i Know its not that long but the time is now 1:28 and my back hurts D:**

 **Hope you liked**

 **see you soon Xx**


	5. Chapter 5

**HEYA!**

 **im on a bit of a writing steak at the moment but i'm running out of ideas :0 PLEASE leave a comment on where you think i should go next cos i really like writing this fanfic :)**

 **Enjoy chapter 5!**

John and Sherlock didn't speak again until they were out of the hospital and had jumped into the back of a taxi. They were planning on getting back home to 221b before it got dark, but the street lamps were already casting a dim light around London.

As always, The roads were packed as they drove through Piccadilly circus and the ensemble of car horns decided to play the detectives a little song. John sighed.

"So, what did you find in the blood?" John asked, uncomfortable in the absence of conversation. After he said this, he realised it wasn't one of the usual ways to start off a friendly chat, but then again, Sherlock wasn't one for the usual in anything.

"Nothing." Sherlock replied, annoyed at his disability to deduce anything from what evidence he had. He stared out of the window as the bright shop fronts flashed by. People were crowding the pavement, hauling bags of shopping and suitcases along with them. It was getting cold and they were all wrapped up in coats, hands in pockets, heads down.

"Nothing?" John Echoed in disbelief. An awkward silence past as both men looked out the window on opposite sides of the taxi.

Luckily, a phone broke the silence as it rung in Sherlock's coat pocket. He picked it up almost immediately and held the speaker up to his ear.

" _Hello Sherlock. Looks like we need your help again..."_ Lestrade said on the other end of the line.

"Oh right?" Sherlock said, looking at John.

" _yup...It's a murder. Strange too. We let Anderson look but..."_

 _"_ pfft. Like he's going to find something. We'll be over right away." Sherlock said and he put down the phone.

"What about the blood?" John asked. He had guessed the call had been a case from Lestrade, but it was unusual for Sherlock to dismiss a different case for one given by the Police.

"Well we'll see when we get there..." Sherlock replied and directed the Taxi driver towards the office.

 **o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

When The two walked into Lestrade's office, He was sitting at his desk with a mug of tea talking to Anderson, Who sighed as soon as Sherlock stepped in.

"Anderson,What a lovely surprise." Sherlock groaned sarcastically, Walking over to the large window behind the desk.

"What's he doing here!" Anderson Exclaimed to Lestrade, with a face of disgust and the reluctance to talk to Sherlock at all.

"You need me." Sherlock said, looking over his shoulder to Anderson in a tight grey suit and white shirt with the top button undone. He'd got drunk last night: dark circles under his eyes, a rasp in his voice and ,of course, the fact he kept rubbing his head, clearly from a headache.

Anderson scoffed at this comment, eager to show off his distaste towards the consulting detective.

"Alright, alright." Sighed Lestrade, wondering why his colleagues constantly acted like five-year-olds when together, "I just recruited Sherlock to see if he could figure something out."

Sherlock gave Anderson a smug smile which made the hungover man storm out to 'leave them in peace'. John just sighed, seating himself in the chair on the other side of the desk, picking up the clip board with the case notes on it.

 _Darts=4_

 _83 park rd, 16 great central st, 26 outer circle, Risborough house_

 _10cm long_

 _metal_

"Darts?" John exclaimed, "Little metal darts, sharp point, feathered end?"

"I know what the dart looks like John, i've had it since this morning." Sherlock replied, assuming the speech was directed at him.

"Yes...There were four others! identical to the one we got i guess."

Sherlock swung round, looking considerably happier with a smirking smile on his face.

"You got one too?" Lestrade asked, looking back at Sherlock then back to John.

"um... yeah. It came through our window earlier today. What did you find about the blood? "John replied ,as Sherlock paced behind the desk holding up the dart, which he'd taken out of his pocket, to the light.

"I knew there was more to this case..." He was muttering to the dart.

"Blood?" Lestrade said, confused. Both John and Sherlock looked at him for a moment, unsure of how on earth he could've got his job and still not be able to open an easy cap off a suspicious dart.

"yes, er." John started, looking at Sherlock who rolled his eyes at lestrade with a smile which made John smile too. This of course made Lestrade very confused and he spun round to look at Sherlock who had snapped his expression into a straight face. John had to bite his cheeks to stop laughing out loud.

"What blood?" Lestrade said, spinning back round ,his eyebrows indicating the fact that he was getting a bit annoyed.

"There's little capsules of blood inside the darts. They all should be hollow, if they're like ours." john explained, maybe smiling a little too much.

"Oh..right." Lestrade answered ,sorting out some loose papers on his desk, clearly embarrassed that he missed something so obvious. Luckily there was a sociopath in the room to make him feel better...

"Oh don't worry Gareth, we all miss big things that we kick ourselves for missing because they're so obvious..." Sherlock called as he walked out the office door.

"Right...thanks." Lestrade Sighed, picking up the old desk phone next to his computer and dialling something. John sat there awkwardly for a minute before he gave Lestrade a forced 'thank you/sorry' smile and followed Sherlock out of the building.

 **There we have it!**

 **Hope you enjoyed and i'll try to update this story again as soon as i can :)**

 **Again please check out my other stuff. I have Merlin one shots, Pretty Little liars and a mega mash fusion on my account so be sure to have a look , they're all pretty different :D**

 **See you soon Xx**


	6. Chapter 6

**I return! I've been very very busy recently, but i finally have a free day which i intend to devote to fanfiction :D**

 **Again, please leave a review and let me know where you think the story could go. ENJOY!**

John stumbled through the flat door after Sherlock, who was of course already frantically flicking through papers on his desk, rubbing his eyes. He flopped down tiredly in his chair, Sherlock paying no notice.

After a moment of silence in the room, aside from the flapping of paper from the excited detective, John asked, "What are you doing?"

He was agitated by the annoying noise of the sheets and thought he could at least get some clarification of why.

Of course, Sherlock didn't answer, but he'd got his hand on the folder he wanted and walked over the coffee table to lie on the sofa. Lying down, with the folder arms length over his face, he studied the paper, John still oblivious to what he was doing.

Another silence hung over the flat as it often did in the middle of a case. Eventually, John Yawned and lifted himself up from the chair with a groan. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, looking round at the messy flat living room.

The net curtain blew gently over Sherlock's music stand by the window, as the quiet hum of traffic and street lamps leaked in. The window was only open a fraction, but John walked up to it for some night air.

He fiddled around with the curtain hoops, which had caught on the pole above the window, and eventually got it loose. He swung away the heavy cloth and lifted the window up.

The air was cold and smelt like the city. Smog hung in the air like a poison cloud, blotting out the London towers in the distance. It was strangely peaceful, but also eerie with backstreets in darkness and people walking round, their faces covered by scarfs and coats. On nights like this, it was hard to define a cold office worker from a potential mass murderer.

With his head sticking out the window, John closed his tired eyes. His nose was cold, but it woke him up a little. When he entered back in the room, he found Sherlock in a different position on the sofa, looking up at him.

"Still tired?" Sherlock asked, though he already knew the answer ,for John had been noticeably plodding round all day. "And yet you had a perfectly sound nights sleep..."

John wondered what Sherlock meant by that and how on earth he knew in the first place. Still, Sherlock was correct.

"Well... This work can be tiring," John suggested, though his friend was not convinced. "I'm sure it's nothing" He continued.

Heavily, John walked over to his chair, sighing as the weight released off his feet. Although he spent most of his time on foot, they still ached tremendously when he'd done a fair amount of walking. Unfortunately, this meant most days.

There was nothing to do on the case until they had the blood results, but that didn't stop Sherlock combing through every little detail they had so far.

"The locations of the darts..." He muttered.

John looked up, wondering what he was on about.

"83 park road, 16 great central street, 26 outer circle, Risborough house..." John started, remembering the names that Lestrade had listed at the office.

"And 221b Baker street..." Sherlock finished, uncapping a red marker pen, a large map of London spread out on the coffee table. He began dotting locations on the map and John guessed it was the places he'd just called out. Curious, he lifted himself out of the chair and walked over to Sherlock, hunched on the sofa staring at the map, his hands together covering his mouth as though he was praying... his usual position while he was deep in thought

John hovered over Sherlock's shoulder, looking down at the colourful map. It was relatively new and John wondered if Sherlock had a collection somewhere. The creases made it harder to read, lifting up London and distorting it's shape, but you could still obviously see a pattern:

All five locations, each covering with a red dot, made a ring on the map covering a fair amount of streets in all. Sherlock joined all of the dots together like a dot-to-dot game in a child's magazine to make the ring clearer, then leaned back to look once more.

"So there's something... somewhere in that ring.." John guessed, though it was very vague as to the details.

Eventually, they decided they would visit in the morning, to get the update on the blood sample. John pointed out this might also be useful information to give Lestrade.

Although Sherlock was not keen, their plan extended to going to the office as well, but not before they'd found something in the blood. It was a compromise at least.

John went up to his room, leaving Sherlock in the living room. He was pretty sure this was not the end of Sherlock's studying for tonight although the dark circles under the tall man's eyes gave away the fact that he was exhausted.

Still, John had a chance to sleep again at last and wasn't going to miss that opportunity. He settled down under the duvet and was soon snoring the night away, ignoring the outcries and clatters of Sherlock's 'experiments' below him.

 **There we have it :)**

 **Hope you enjoyed, i tried being a bit more descriptive this time, but i tend to get side-tracked.**

 **Please leave a review and check out my other stories :)**

 **See you soon Xx**


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